Lethean Grey
by Enheduanna of Ur
Summary: "All we ever got out of them was that they went into a cave with Tom Riddle"...  Tom takes Amy's hand, and leads her down the path to Hades.  Dark oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

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><p>He is dragging her down.<p>

He grabs Amy's mind by the corners, like a great grey blanket, and tugs her gently into the abyss. As the airy darkness expands her brain like a parachute, she thinks she feels her sanity fly away with it. Or does she think at all, anymore?

Does she remember at all, anymore?

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><p>Rock. Black rock, slimy and cold beneath her fingertips as she stumbles down, flailing her arms out to her sides to steady herself. The rock is black, right?<p>

When Amy thinks about it, all she can remember is grey.

It's so hard to recall.

Oh God, that place. Cold rock, forming a high dome above her disintegrating head. So tall that Amy has to crane her neck to focus on the top. Dizzily, her first impulse upon seeing it is to throw a rock at it and wait for the resonating clank, like a child standing before a pit whose bottom is indiscernible.

Of course, rocks don't fly up. But... Who is to say which way is up? And for that matter, who is to say there would be a clank anyway? Perhaps there is no bottom or top for it to clank against.

Shivering in her one-piece bathing suit, Amy looks at Dennis. He looks as uncomfortable and benumbed as she feels. His skin is grey, like hers must be. And Amy feels encompassed by the grey, trapped and smothered by the lack of color that is this place, this subterranean world.

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><p>Tom holds their hands, and leads them down the path to Hades.<p>

He escorts Amy with a cordiality that befits a gentleman twice his age. When she nearly trips and cries out, he pulls her back upright and hushes her gently. He smiles at her, so charming that it makes her paralyzed mind spin. But he won't let go of her hand, even when she whimpers in fear and tries to tug away.

He frightens her so much. So very much. But... Why?

She cannot remember, really, when she thinks about it.

A lake. There is a chthonic lake, smooth as stone and as black as night (or is it grey?) And a boat. A rickety, unsafe-looking boat. Amy and Dennis step into it, huddling together, protecting one another from the stifling, impassive grey.

Tom rows them across, barely making a ripple in the glassy pool. He is Charon, and they are his charges, holding their obol-coins between their chattering teeth, sinking into the chilly depths of Hades.

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><p>They approach the island, the Asphodel Meadows of Amy's hell. It is in the middle of the lake, built of flat grey stone. Utterly empty, as though it were waiting for something. It waits for a secret. It waits for a prize.<p>

Is Amy to be the prize? Is he going to leave her here to rot, desert her on this grey expanse in a sea of nothingness? Abandon her with only her grey thoughts, and laugh as her mind consumes itself?

He wouldn't do something like that.

Would he?

Amy sits on the rock, gazing out over the grey expanse before her. She tries to think, but she can barely remember how.

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><p>The rivers of Hades take their toll, don't they?<p>

Cocytus, River of Lamentation, takes the mournful children. The children who cry while crossing the lake in the boat.

Acheron, River of Sorrow, takes the loved ones of the children. The friends who wonder what has changed.

Phlegethon, River of Fire, takes the angry children. The ones who fight and kick until they are worn to the bone.

And finally, the Styx, River of Hate, takes the strange children. The little boys who grow up to be monsters.

There is one more river. What was it called? The one that takes the children with abstracted grey minds. The ones who cannot feel or remember, no matter how hard they try.

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><p><em>This is not the first time, Tom.<em>

Amy tells him what she knows, her voice a sudden light in the darkness of the cave, nearly as bright as the lantern beside them. Dennis turns to her, his eyes cloudy, as though he does not understand the words she has used. Both boys are surprised to hear her say anything: she rarely speaks these days.

The dead grey of her ruined mind gives her the anger to confront him. _This is not the first time we have seen the cave, is it, Tom?_

He walks toward her, slowly, sauntering. His handsome eyes, his enticing lips, his wavy dark hair all seem to glow in the darkness. He is not a little boy anymore. He is taller than her. He is attractive and confident.

He has bathed in the River Styx, and he thinks he is indestructible. He thinks the God of Death will never find him now.

Amy knows that in her nebulous memories, Tom was but a boy when he led her to Hades. But here he is, almost a man. And she is in the cave again, in the grey_ again_, her mind riddled with holes. There is only one explanation, and she knows it is true.

_You take us here, every year. You take us to this place and play with our minds. You practice on us, experiment on us. Every summer, every seaside vacation._

Amy's voice is hoarse from lack of use, but the words are out. Tom raises a slim stick of wood, the tip glowing. It lights the cave a little more, and Amy's memories come twinging back in spikes of blue, green, and red, cutting through the grey like knives.

_So you remember, do you, Amy-love...?_

Amy backs away from him, remembering the horrific things he did to her. Things no man should do to a young woman. Things no person should do to another human being.

Oh God, she hated him!

Amy remembers why she is so afraid of Tom. She remembers the blackness of the rocks, the blackness of the water, the blackness of her terrible fear, _not _grey! And Amy Benson remembers that she is _alive, _a mortal with a soul, a mind, a will to survive! She remembers how strong she once was, how happy, how clever, and how _he took all of that away_ the day he took them into the cave for the first time.

She also remembers the name of the last river of Hades, the river she is swimming in, drowning in. The river that is grey.

Lethe, River of Forgetfulness.

_Amy, look at me._

When she refuses to move, he grabs her roughly by the chin, forcing her head up to meet his eye. Tears stream down her cheeks as Amy looks into his gleaming red eyes, and clings to the last vestiges of color she knows. She holds tightly to the sparse rainbow of memories, knowing that at any minute Tom will plunge her into the Lethe again, dyeing her vivid memories grey once again. The way he does every time he brings her to the cave to ravage her body and mind.

She hiccups in misery, and he smiles at her.

_Obliviate._

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><p>He is dragging her down.<p>

He grabs Amy's mind by the ends, like a dingy grey washrag, and wrings it out over the abyss. As her clarity, intelligence and freedom dribble from her brain like dishwater, she thinks she feels her last bit of hope drip away with it.

Or does she feel at all, anymore?


End file.
